


Coffee and Cream (and Love Unseen)

by imfallingforyoureyes102



Series: On the Outside Looking In [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: CEOliver, Coffee, College Friends, Domestic Fluff, EA Felicity, Eventual Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love, Mutual Pining, Pining, Roommates, Season 2, Slow Burn, Soft Oliver Queen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, olicity - Freeform, outside looking in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imfallingforyoureyes102/pseuds/imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: Oliver squeezes her shoulders and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes, the back of her head bumping into his chest. They’re so close their noses are almost touching as Felicity offers him a quiet thank you.His smile just deepens, and Logan watches as the sculpted, immovable Adonis of a man she’d met just a half hour before melts into a literal puddle at the sight of Felicity’s upside-down smile.(Or, Felicity’s college friends come to visit and, while lounging in the living room, they witness the almost domestic dance the two supposed “just friends” roommates have perfected when it comes to morning coffee, expensive ties, dress zippers, and extra chocolate chunk coco bars.)





	Coffee and Cream (and Love Unseen)

**Author's Note:**

> Hola folks, hope you enjoy!! Please, please let me know what you think!!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I will be updating Show Me Where My Armor Ends soon. I will! I will! 
> 
> Love you all!

Logan Anna Douglas smiles as she sprawls out on her best friend’s couch, snuggling further beneath the large green blanket that she snagged from the worn-out armchair near the fireplace. She glances around the small apartment living room, taking in everything and everyway that Felicity Smoak has changed since college.

Her eyes fall on a large Captain America poster plastered above a very water deprived, very dead plant.

She sniggers. _Not much then._

“God, when is Lissy going to wake up?”

It takes everything in Logan and then some to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she tilts her head towards the always prim and proper Aria Stewart. She still doesn’t know why Felicity had invited her along to their little “reunion” – Aria had always been 3 parts snark and 1 part rude, especially towards Felicity – but the blonde IT expert had insisted that it would be weird if she didn’t invite her _roommate_ of three years.

Logan could not disagree more, but whatever.

“First of all, _Felicity,”_ Logan starts, dragging out her best friend’s preferred name, “has work today. Even if she was up right now, she’d have to leave soon. Second, Starling’s three hours behind where we live, it’s not much of a time difference, but it’s enough to explain why we’ve been up for the past - ,”

Logan’s cut off by the door swinging open, but it’s the view of the extremely sweaty and very shirtless man that strides through it that has her voice catching. She can hear Aria’s own intake of breath next to her, and it’s with wide eyes and admittedly dry mouths that the two girls watch the man in front of them run his crumpled-up t-shirt down the expanse of his toned torso, chasing a falling bead of sweat.

It’s definitely a sight for sore eyes – any pair of eyes that could see, really – and Logan isn’t that much of a morally adept individual to prevent herself from sweeping her eyes down the entire length of the literal Adonis-like man standing in front of them. He’s obviously just come in from a run, a pair of sweatpants and running shoes the only thing on his body. His chest is rising and falling in fast pants and there’s slight blush running across his cheeks.

Logan’s read enough of the celebrity magazines throughout her time in college ( _and this past weekend because she’s an absolute trash bag_ ) to know that the man in front of them is Oliver Queen. She also knows that the Oliver Queen she had come to recognize through gossip columns and Buzzfeed dating quizzes was an absolute _ass wipe_ , so it’s a pair of narrowed eyes and pursed lips that she aims towards the man.

Aria’s a different story – all pouted lips and ruffled blouse – and for the second time in five minutes, Logan finds herself wanting to shove her foot into Aria’s pompous backside.

_Ah, the stuff of dreams._

When her eyes shift back from Aria to Oliver, though, it’s to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her.

“What’s the stuff of dreams?”

Oliver Queen’s voice is a lot lower and gravellier than Logan ever imagined.

“I have a bit of a cold, too. That might be part of it.”

It’s then Logan squeezes her eyes shut. If there was one thing to know about hers and Felicity’s friendship, it was that it was built on their shared trait of having absolutely no filter. It also helped that the two shared a similar sense of humor, and a certain irreprehensible knack for getting into all sorts of techy trouble.

Oliver’s lips tilt in a small smile as he regards the brunette in front of him.

“You must be Logan,” he says, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. He roots through the drawer near the sink and pulls out two protein bars. “Felicity’s told me a lot about you and your guys’s _escapades_ in college.”

“All legal,” Logan says firmly. “Of the law, within the rules, _legítimo_.”

 A small beep rings through the air, and Oliver raises an eyebrow as he glances down at his watch before looking to Logan.

“I’m sure it was,” he says, the amusement obvious in his voice. “I’m Oliver Queen, Felicity’s roommate.”

 _So_ you’re _the mysterious roomie that Felicity’s been silent about,_ Logan thinks. _Fucking billionaire Oliver Queen. A billionaire roomie._

_A broomie._

Another beep sounds, pulling Logan out of her (hopefully) silent thoughts.

“I wish I could stay and chat but,” he pulls up his phone on display.

“Work,” Logan finishes, nodding along in acknowledgment. “An absolute _bitch_.”

She’s a bit impressed with herself when a small huff like laughs falls from the man’s lips, because from what she can see from their few minutes of interaction, is that the Oliver Queen in front of her is nothing like the one she’d imagine. Where she’d predicted endless flirtation and a fuckboy attitude, she instead got a polite hello and a reserved half laugh. She could deal with Chilled Out Broommate Oliver Queen.

“It was nice meeting you,” Oliver says. “Enjoy Starling, while the weather’s still nice.”

Oliver glances out the window to the rain falling against the pavement many feet below, and it’s with an amused grunt that Logan replies.

Oliver’s half-way across the room when Aria clears her throat.

“I’m Aria, by the way, Felicity’s _best_ friend from college,” she offers, batting her eyes in a way that makes Logan’s insides coil.

Oliver stops and turns, offering a tight smile to Aria. If he notices the way Logan’s face is pulled into a puking expression, he doesn’t say anything.

Logan relishes in the way Aria sort of deflates into the couch, but for a second, she wants to feel sorry for her because _that_ interaction was far from ideal.

But then she’s running her fingers through her hair and poking Logan on the thigh even though she knows she _hates_ being poked and the quiet “Dibs, I call dibs, he’s _mine,_ ” that falls from Aria’s mouth has her rethinking that guilt within seconds.  

It’s a quiet knock ringing through the apartment that pulls the two girls’ attention back to Oliver.

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

His voice is soft, almost cooing, as he leans against the wall and waits for a response.

The door creaks open slowly before Felicity’s popping her head out, and it’s a mess of tangled curls and squinting eyes that meet Oliver’s own. She still has marks on her face from where it had been pressed against her pillow, and she tugs her blanket tight around her shoulders before peeking up at Oliver.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart,” he says just as softly as before. Logan can hear the sprinkle of amusement in his voice again – Felicity truly is an uncaffeinated wiccan in the mornings -  but there’s something else laced in his soft murmur, too. Something she can’t quite put her finger on yet.

Felicity huffs and sags her head against the doorframe for a second, and Oliver brings his hand with the two bars in front of her face.

She peers at them both in careful consideration, leaning in slightly to look at the labels without squinting, before slowly reaching a hand up and out from under her blanket and snagging the bar with more chocolate.

Felicity’s bringing the bar closer to her face to inspect it, but Oliver’s watching Felicity, grinning slightly as if he’d known she’d choose that bar all along. She glances up at him then, and it’s the way that Oliver Queen’s eyes soften to literal clouds as he stares down at Felicity’s flushed cheeks and tangled hair that Logan realizes the thing she had heard in his voice before was unadulterated adoration _._  

Logan wants to fist pump then because, _boo-fucking-yeah,_ her best friend’s basically eye-banging the hottest man on earth, but the soft way two continue to interact let’s Logan know that she’s the only one in the room who realizes the innocent infatuation between them.

 _Idiots_ , the two of them.

It’s this realization and Oliver’s small acts of kindness that Felicity is obviously used to enough to not think anything of it that have Logan falling slightly onto the Oliver-Felicity bandwagon.

Logan’s eyebrows shoot up. _Olicity._

Aria turns to her, a sharp eyebrow raised in annoyance. “What?”

Logan brushes a hand in the air, accidentally whacking Aria in the jaw. “Shhh.”

“S’time is it?”

The two girls’ attention is quickly drawn back to the other duo in the room.

“Half past seven,” Oliver whispers in the same tone Felicity had used. He pushes off the wall, not missing the way Felicity’s eyes sweep appreciatively down his torso – he’s getting his own view with the way Felicity’s bare, toned legs peek out from under her blanket.

It’s then Logan really notices the brutal scars and burns littering Oliver’s body – it’s also then that Logan once again readjusts her previous misconceptions of Oliver Queen.

Soon enough, Oliver’s walking across the living room towards what Logan assumes is his own room, ripping open his own protein bar and taking a bite.

“Digg’ll be here in thirty minutes, we have a meeting in an hour!” Oliver calls over his shoulder.

“I _know_ ,” Felicity huffs through her already closed door. “I make your schedule, Oliver!”

He lets out a laugh then, a _real_ laugh, and even though Logan just met the man, she knows it’s a thing to celebrate.

Aria turns to face her as he shuts his door.

“I’m _so_ glad we decided to stay here instead of a hotel.”

“God help me,” Logan whispers as she flops back onto the couch.

* * *

Logan’s almost asleep again when she hears a door slide open, and she lets her eyes fall open slightly to see that it’s Oliver.

He’s showered and dressed it what looks like a very expensive Italian suit, and Logan spends the next ten seconds trying to figure out how the man looks even more attractive _with_ clothes on.

She tries to trade an eyebrow waggle with Aria and nearly has a heart attack when she realizes the girl isn’t laying next to her on the couch anymore. It’s only when she glances across the dimmed room and sees her curled up on the armchair, practically salivating at the scene in front of her, that Logan relaxes.

Oliver walks the few steps from his room to the kitchen looking like actual and literal sex – Logan will admit that, she’s not a _nun._ His tie is draped around his neck as he finishes the last few buttons on his dress shirt and his arms strain against the white fabric as he slips into his suit jacket.

He quickly pulls three travel mugs down from the cupboard before starting to fix coffee.

Oliver glances at his watch and up ahead, “Felicity!”

Her door swings open.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. You know, it’s usually you that we’re trying to wrangle through the door last minute, mister, so don’t get all _Fe-li-ci-ty_ on me,” Felicity says, her voice getting all deep and growly when she mimics Oliver.

She glances up, “Don’t forget Digg’s coff- ,”

Oliver lifts the third travel mug up before turning to grab creamer.

Logan watches Oliver fix each mug with variations of sugar and cream, and she’s utterly impressed when she sees Oliver pour the exact amount of creamer into Felicity’s Captain America mug that she’d been drinking since before college.

“Points to you, Broommate, points to you,” Logan murmurs quietly to herself. She feels a little bit like a spy, watching the interactions occurring in her kitchen, but then she remembers that she spent the better part of her college years getting into things she was definitely _not_ supposed to, so this is neither here nor there.

It’s only when Felicity moves into the kitchen that Logan realizes that Oliver and Felicity aren’t just friends – can’t be, not with the well-practiced dance they seem to fall into on instinct.

Oliver continues fixing the coffee but turns sideways so that he’s perpendicular to the countertop. He lets his hip rest against the granite as Felicity sidles up right next to him, setting her tablet down. She reaches up and grabs the tie from around his collar, and Oliver adjusts his height so Felicity can fasten it around his neck.

He doesn’t spill a drop of the creamer or a grain of sugar as Felicity damn near presses herself against him to knot his tie to perfection.

Instead, he stares intently down at her as she rattles off the schedule for the day and it’s a _don’t piss of Bruce Wayne no matter how much you want to, Oliver, he’s our biggest investor in this project_ and a _if we get off early do you think we can get those little cupcakes on Main_ that have his lips slanting up in a smile only reserved for her.

He takes it all in, lips quirking up at all the right times and eyes glinting when she finishes and gives his chest a small pat.

She turns to the creamer carton then, taking the cap out of Oliver’s hand and screwing it shut. When she moves to put it in the fridge, Oliver’s own hands come up to brush against her neck, gently sweeping her blonde hair to the side.

He leans in slightly as he pulls the zip of her dress up the rest of the way, and Logan has to strain to hear the quiet murmur of “You’re wearing your hair down today.”

Felicity turns, reaching towards Oliver’s arm and fixing one of his cuff links absentmindedly, “Not for long. With the rain, I’ll probably have it up by the time we reach the office. It’s either that or Felicity the Clown is making her debut at Queen Consolidated today.”

Felicity dives into a rant about clowns then, and Oliver’s leaning against the countertop, arms folded over his chest, watching her with a smile painted on his lips. Logan doesn’t really think he’s listening to what she’s saying – actually, she knows he isn’t because what Felicity is saying is bordering on downright terrifying and definitely not worthy of the soft smile he’s giving her.

It’s only when Felicity turns around to grab her tablet that she notices her best friend smirking at her.

She jumps.

“Logan!” Her eyes flash to Aria, whose face is pulled in a deep scowl. “Aria! I’m sorry! Did we wake you up? Was the guest room not comfortable? Do you - ,”

“Felicity?” Logan says.

“Yeah?”

The two friends stare at each other for a while, Logan analyzing every inch of her face, Felicity tilting her head in question.

“Nothing,” Logan says finally, shaking her head with a satisfied grin. “And we’re fine. Time difference is messing with us is all. You two go to work, be business-y and techy and shit. Aria and I will meet you for lunch like we said. Make sure you’re well fed.”

 Felicity’s cheeks scrunch up as she smiles and sighs a longing, “I’ve missed you,” to the brunette across the room.

They share a sort of air fist bump and Felicity waves a hand and a smile towards a still scowling Aria.

“See you two in a few hours, then!”

Felicity turns, heading out the door that Oliver is holding open.

“Fel-,” Oliver starts,

Felicity spins on her heel, stepping right back into the apartment.

She grins sheepishly up at Oliver as he stands there with her jacket in his hands.

“Right. Jacket. Cold,” she mutters as Oliver helps her shrug on the long coat.

He squeezes her shoulders and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes, the back of her head bumping into his chest. They’re so close their noses are almost touching as Felicity offers him a quiet thank you. 

His smile just deepens, and Logan watches as the sculpted, immovable Adonis of a man she’d met just a half hour before melts into a literal puddle at the sight of Felicity’s upside-down smile.

It’s only the shrill ring of a phone and a _move your asses_ from a certain John Diggle that breaks the two of them from their bubble and pulls them out the door.

* * *

While the morning’s events had convinced Logan Anna Douglas of a budding crush growing between her college best friend and her newly named Broomie, it’s what she sees at their office that fills her chest with a fire so warm she can almost see the icicles melting off of Aria’s bitter frown.

They’re waiting near the elevators for Felicity to finish something up at her computers. Logan’s asking John Diggle – _call me Digg –_ how he feels knowing his bicep is the size of her head, and John Diggle is looking back and forth between Logan and Felicity with a _there’s two of them_ expression plastered on his face.

Logan prods his bicep again, and the tall man glances down at her.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“So, Felicity and the boss-man? When do you suppose they’ll become a thing?”

It’s only after the two place their bets on when _it_ would happen – Logan knows it’s two weeks, Diggle swears on two months – that Felicity finally gets up from her computer.

She’s slipping her jacket on, yelling a, _“Gimmie one second!”_ before making her way into Oliver’s office. The man in question is leaning just barely against the front of his desk, an arm folded across his chest, the other clutching his phone to his ear.

He glances up as Felicity enters, his head tilting in question.

She walks up to him, nodding her head in the direction of Logan and Aria before mimicking eating a sandwich. There’s a smile – a big, bright smile – that flashes across Oliver’s face and that has Logan nudging Digg in the side because _see?_

He pushes off of the desk, still talking to the other person on the line, and adjusts the phone so that it’s held between his ear and shoulder.

He beckons Felicity closer, hands brushing against the front of her jacket as he pulls the zip up so that it’s almost to her nose. She rolls her eyes as he adjusts her coat as if it was just another habit that the two of them shared, and he huffs before pointing to the rain turned snow spiraling down just outside the window.

It’s only when he’s satisfied that he moves back slightly. Felicity says something then and Oliver covers the mouthpiece on the phone as he replies, eyes as warm and as soft and as in affectionate as ever.

It’s then Logan realizes that she had been mistaken before. Oliver Queen didn’t just adore Felicity Smoak.

He’s head over heels in love with her.

“Has been for years.”

Logan jumps as she turns to look at Diggle, and he offers her a winning smile in response.

She nods her head in determination, eyeing Felicity as she walks towards them.

“Alright John Diggle,” Logan whispers firmly. “You work on Boss-man over there, I’ve got my girl. I just bet too much money on this for them not to be all lovey-dovey in the next two weeks.”

Diggle just laughs and shakes his head, completely confident in his own right to win the bet.

But when Logan glances back towards Oliver’s office – when she sees the way he sits in his chair, leaning forward against his desk with his hands folded under his chin, eyes so full of _light_ and _warmth_ and _love_ as he watches Felicity’s retreating figure – she knows that this is a bet she’s sure to win.

**Author's Note:**

> Pleaseeee let me know what you think! It feeds my soul!


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